Now What?
by Ultra Rodimus
Summary: AU. Foxey had it up, took it down here it is again. The TF characters are mad at me for tormenting them in every fic, so they decide to have words with me...


Now What?

Suddenly, without warning, the Authoress's eyes snapped open, and she sat up in bed. The familiar walls of her room, covered in pictures, posters, crafts, and even peacock tailfeathers, had vanished. All she could see beyond the edges of her bed was a strange, swirling blue mist. It glowed with its own internal light, soft and gentle, as if it was alive. 

This can't be good. 

There was no visible source for the mist. It was just...there. She tried to see past it, but there was nothing. The blue mist extended as far as the eye could see. 

Confused, the Authoress was about to climb out of the bed when movement caught her eye. She scrambled back against the headboard as the mist parted slightly, allowing several large shapes to emerge. 

Now what? 

Several Autobots stood in a semi-circle around the bed, all of them glaring at her. The red and blue form of a recently-dead Optimus Prime was right in front of her. Nearby was the noble-looking frame of Rodimus Prime, with his younger form, Hot Rod, standing on his left, and the larger blue and gray bulk of Ultra Rodimus to his right. Ultra Magnus, looking seriously peeved, was also part of the circle, as was the battered , massive hulk of Ultimus, looking even more ticked off than Magnus, if that was possible. Sandstorm, scowling darkly enough to frighten even Megatron into the depths of space, stood between Ultra Rodimus and Magnus. Omega Supreme stood behind Optimus, obviously not there to talk, but to glare. Several Autobots the Authoress couldn't put names to completed the semi-circle. 

"Uhm...is there something I can do for you?" the Authoress asked. 

"Perhaps you can explain why you keep picking on us!" Magnus snarled. 

"Pardon?" 

"Every time you write a story, you torture us!" Optimus snapped. "Just look at what you did to me!" 

"I don't understand." 

"You torture us, and we want you to stop!" 

"Leave the poor girl alone," a new voice purred. "If you go after her, you'll have to go after every writer of fanfiction on Earth, because all of them torture us at one point or another." 

Something soft brushed the back of the Authoress's neck, and a warm shape curled up against her back. She turned to look, and found herself staring into a pair of amused blue eyes surrounded by cherry-red fur, blue-black hair, and with two dark brown, pointy ears sticking up from amid that shiny blue-tinted hair. It was one of her own characters, one she'd created herself, the Shonari foxbot, Ultra Magnus. And where he was, his mate couldn't be very far away. A warm weight on her legs confirmed her guess that Shonari Magnus's mate, the silver-pelted Shonari, Rodimus Silverfox. Rodimus draped himself across the Authoress's legs, curling his bushy tail around himself. She scratched behind his pointy ears and was rewarded with his soft, contented purr. He turned his head and ran his rough tongue, equipped with barbs for grooming, like a cat's, across her hand. 

"Traitor," Optimus accused. 

"I said I wanted to come. I never said I'd help you annoy my creatress. Or should I remind you that she can turn you into a toad with a single keystroke. Besides, Mags and I are very fond of her. She did create us." 

The other Autobots grumbled. Shonari Rodimus smirked at them, rearranging his coil on the Authoress's lap. She petted him gently, and his eyelids drooped with pleasure. He loved being caressed. 

While the other Autobots debated among themselves what to do next, the Authoress's hand slid under one of the pillows, Shonari Magnus's bushy tail curling forward to hide the movement from the others' sight. Unnoticed by them, she pulled something out, hiding it under the blankets. Seeing what it was, Shonari Magnus chuckled quietly to himself, creating a soothing vibration against the Authoress's back. She turned slightly to scratch his ears. He leaned into her hand. Shonari Rodimus butted her other arm, looking for some attention. She obligingly showered him with affection. Contented, he settled down, eyes half closed, purring gently. 

"We're tired of being tormented by you!" Ultra Rodimus rumbled in his deep bass voice. "We demand a change!" 

"Then you'll get one." With that, the Authoress pulled out the object she'd been hiding. It was a writing pad and a pencil. 

The other Autobots eyed it suspiciously. 

"What's that?" Ultimus demanded. 

"My next fic." The Authoress smiled evilly at the suddenly nervous Autobots while the two Shonari on the bed snickered. She braced the pad against Shonari Rodimus's side, using him as a makeshift writing desk. "Now, what should I change you into? Toads? Cockroaches? Slugs? How about fleas?" 

There was a sudden rush to get as far away from her as possible. The Authoress and her two "pets" laughed as the dozen or so Autobots fled into the mist, vanishing from sight. 

"Would you really have turned them into fleas?" Shonari Magnus asked. 

"And have them crawl all over you two? No. But slugs is a definite option. I'll spare you two beauties from the agony of a case of fleas." She returned the writing pad to its place under her pillow and leaned back against Magnus's warm, furry side, breathing in the warm scent of his luxurious pelt. Rodimus adjusted his position slightly, resting his chin on her stomach. 

"Go back to sleep," Magnus purred in her ear. "You need to rest if you want to write about our exploits tomorrow." 

Softly, he began to purr. His mate's soft purr joined in, until both provided a gentle, soothing vibration. The Authoress's eyelids began to droop. They closed, and she fell asleep with her head pillowed on Magnus's side, his purring soft in her ear. 

When she woke up the next morning, it was to the sight of her own small room. There was no sign of the night's visitors, or so she thought, until she looked at her pillow and quilt. Both were covered in shed hair, red and dark silver, longer than her cat's fur and the wrong color. Her cat was pure white, not bright red or dark silver. Smiling to herself, the Authoress gathered up all of the hairs and put them in a small box. Then she pulled on her clothes, grabbed her pad and pencil, and headed out to begin a new day. 

Fin. 


End file.
